


All New Level of Alone

by Listae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 12:25:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Listae/pseuds/Listae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shot. This is my take of what could've happened after 9x03. Short little outlet of anxiety that has just built up between seasons and within first couple of episodes of season 9.<br/>WARNING: Spoilers for 9x03. Destiel... kind of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All New Level of Alone

"Cas, you can't stay here."

I swear I can still hear the ring of those words in my head. It's been months and I still hear them as if he's standing right in front of me, with the same unreadable expression on his face, the same unwavering determination to get me out of his way.

It's not as if it surprised me all that much, really. I didn't expect much anyway, that's why I didn't go find them in the first place. What did surprise me was the extent of his indifference, bordering cruelty really, to bring me back to his home, show me what it is like and then throw me out. Not that I don't deserve this, because I know I do, I absolutely do. So maybe I was delusional still, becayse that I didn't expect. Not from him.

I remember my all too human heart squeezing tightly in my chest at the words spoken softly and calmly, at the realization of just how alone I really was in this new world. It still does that every time I think of them, of him.

I remember a numb sort of dread swallowing me as I stood up, squared my shoulders as much as I could to give myself a false sense of strength and nodded.

"I understand." I told him quietly with as much firmness in my voice I could muster. I'm still a strategist, I know that showing weakness to somebody who doesn't care is counter-productive and I think I've showed him enough of my underbelly as is. "I will go then. Say goodbye to Sam for me. I'm really glad he's doing better."

"Cas, it's… You don't have to go right now." He muttered. "I mean you look beat, get some sleep. We'll get you some stuff, a little money to start with…"

"Stop." I grit my teeth. The numbness I felt dissipated and was replaced my growling anger in the pit of my stomach. I tried to control it, I didn't deserve anything from him, and yet there's something about disappointment that just renders one helpless. "I don't require your help. I understand I am useless to you, but I'm not a child Dean."

"Come on, man! I'm not kicking you out like that. You'll need things, money. You can't live like, you know, homeless…"

An angry laughter bubbled in my chest and I just couldn't keep it in. It was ironic, seriously. The only man I ever considered my friend was sending me away to die alone, because without my grace I was useless to him and he was talking about being homeless! I laughed again as I passed him on my way out. At least it won't last long now. My brothers will find me and I will finally fall.

He grabbed my arm as I was passing him and I stilled.

"Here, at least take this." He muttered pushing his phone into my hand. "Call me if you get in trouble."

I laughed again. I just couldn't stop. It was either that or angry tears and I really couldn't do angry tears there. It turned out I couldn't do them anywhere in the end. I put the phone on the table beside him.

"I think we're out of reasons for pretences, so let's not pretend this is something that it's not." I told him with a forced smile. "It's clear you don't need a useless ex-angel with the target on the back of his head, I can understand that and I see no reason why I should disturb you again. Thank you for your help with April; that was more than enough."

I tore my eyes off him then walked away without looking back.

In my life I have done many difficult things, things that were wrong or hard or unbearable. Leaving them was not one of those things. Letting him finally get rid of me was a right thing to do, I have brought nothing but troubles into their lives and I had no place in them. And yet… Heartbroken has a real meaning to me now, because even though I didn't expect anything from them, I still believed him when he said we were family and it hurt like hell to know that we were not. I know it's my own fault. I remember there was a time when he asked me to stand by him, to be his family and it is of my own doing that he didn't extend the invitation now, but this knowledge doesn't give me comfort, if anything it just makes the hollow I feel in my chest throb more painfully.

It turns out things happen really quickly when you're too numb to pay attention to the world. For the life of me I can't recall how I got to where I am now. There was a truck stopping by. Kind brown eyes in an old and wrinkled face. Soothing words I don't remember but still feel grateful for. Capable hands leading me through my struggles.

This old man, who found me and held me up when my knees threatened to buckle, is the reason I stand now. It's not of my doing and not of Dean's, it's of the man's who I didn't know or care about, who didn't know me, but for some unfathomable reason cared for me, that today I have home.

When I look at the mirror in the small upstairs bathroom of his house, I see a shell that hosts no angel, no grace and no soul. And yet I have home with the stranger, who was simply kind enough to extend a hand to this empty shell of a man when both of his families cast him out. I'm so grateful it makes my empty eyes sting. I'm in awe with humanity again but it hurts me that for the first time since I held his soul, this awe is not for Dean.

It pains me that it was not Dean's hands that taught me how to fry eggs and make coffee, how to shave and wash my clothes, how to fix the roof and use screwdriver. It hurts that it was not his hands that shook me from my screaming nightmares; it was not his hand on my shoulder that kept me steady when I was falling apart.

I should just be grateful that I have this, that I'm not alone, but instead every act of kindness of this old man, who's more of a father to me than anyone ever was, hurts me more, because it is never Dean and it's… It's just…

It's an all new level of alone.


End file.
